


Sacrifice

by cambion



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-26
Updated: 2012-01-26
Packaged: 2017-10-30 03:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/327359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cambion/pseuds/cambion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hasn’t always been this much of a heavy burden - these unfortunate feelings you bear for Jake English - but you suppose that is how feelings work, if you leave them to brew they will become a life of their own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrifice

You aren’t the sort to dwell on your emotional affairs by any means.

You are Dirk Strider, child prodigy with specialties in robotics and AI. Although the workings of the mind do entice you enough for you to so frequently mimic and fabricate mechanical replications of the human psyche, they are simply that, fabrications, and you prefer to keep them that way. Even when delving into your own psyche for such replications, you prefer it, if not despite, then because, your own feeble emotions then become limited to sequential equations. You enjoy humor, you enjoy empathy, you even value tragedy - but this way it is all within your control, all able to be made sense of, and this is what you attribute your skills ways of the heart in.

And you find yourself quickly becoming overwhelmed by the numbers and the parts and it’s almost all too much.

It hasn’t always been this much of a heavy burden - these unfortunate feelings you bear for Jake English - but you suppose that is how feelings work, if you leave them to brew they will become a life of their own. You’ve tried and tried to keep them at bay, because although you do one day desire companionship, at this point in time that’s a big ol’ hell no, not to mention the imminent heartbreak you can already see around the bend.

And yet you must have a blind spot, because over the past three or more years, it’s festered, and festered, and festered into a heaping mess of gargantuan proportions, only achievable by that of the human mind’s obsession with romance. And here you are, saddled with a grand mission that carries the weight of the world, the universe - the very existence of existence, and you can’t rid him from your mind. The algorithms in your head are skewing and nothing is clear as you’re entirely enthralled, ensnared and entangled within this gawky, wild boy. His old-fashioned slang usages make him ever-so-charming - such a flashback gentleman who ultimately knows how to have a “ripsnorting” good time, even if he can be a total fucking loser. His rustic manner intrigues you, as it has since the initial keystrokes the two of you exchanged, and you find yourself envying the very mechanism you so made to ease his mind and his lonesome being. The liftoff of thousands of doves overtake and spread across the sky, pearl white feathers leaving nothing in view but green-stained eyes and an all-too-cocky grin.

Somehow he’s manifested himself within everything - he’s transcended all else, and become the very method to your madness. In that sense, he has at once given you everything - and so with aching fingers and a sweat-stained AI, you’ve created all you can to make him not feel so stranded, and so without companionship.

In the design venture of such a mechanism, you fear you were too carried away - designing the simplistic edition of the AI to harbor similar affections to yourself, to maybe show a form of mercy and gentleness should Jake find himself hopeless and with nothing else but some empty-faced fauna. In retrospect, your wisdom had faltered - his discomfort by this feature was painfully evident, but upon further inspection you deduce that without the further exposition of these intentions, the caring gesture is lost.

Perhaps a simple answer would be to tell him, to leave him aware of all these intentions and these attachments so that although the odds of reciprocation are next to nonexistent, he’d understand and be aware, and you firmly believe that if all were on the table, it’d all be for the better. You are ready for rejection, for though you admire and pursue the brilliance of hope, you do not believe in it falsely.

And yet, simply telling him is not your style, nor would it convey your intent by any means. You require one of poetic standards - you require the explosions of fire and the crashing of waves as you outstretch your hand to join with his. You require such a display, not in order to woo this honorable man, but to fully capture the range of your emotions. Because for you, the burning of cities and the ending of worlds pale in comparison to him, and you desire for your feelings to appear the same. You will fight the good fight, and you will not stop until he knows, he understands, and will never forget how much you loved him.

You pause each time this thought crosses your mind, a bittersweet smile on your face. You know the game ahead of you is one of sacrifice, and you also know that if need be, despite your logic and your run-down equations, you would sacrifice anything for him.

So long as he knows.


End file.
